Don't Let a Cat Light Your Match
by rainshatteredsky
Summary: Liz Thompson really should have known better than to let Blair set her up. After all, "To err is human, to purr is feline."


Liz sat at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, perfectly manicured nails clicking against the glass screen of her phone as she furiously texted Tsubaki.

Liz: my date's late

Tsu: by five minutes

Liz: you never keep a lady waiting

Liz: gives a shitty first impression

Tsu: you haven't even met the guy yet

Liz: why did I agree to this?

Tsu: because you need to get laid

Tsu: and Blair's paying

Tsu: now get off your phone and get it girl!

She sighed and shoved the thing in her purse, since Tsubaki clearly had no constructive advice to offer. Around her were an array of potted plants, effectively sectioning off the section the damn Cat had reserved for Liz and her date. She would've been insulted by the insinuation that she would be doing anything that called for hiding with a man she'd just met, if it wasn't for the fact that if Liz was setting up one of her friends she'd have done something similar to embarrass them just for kicks.

Without her phone to distract her, she looked around the restaurant. It was elegant, with beige walls covered in tapestries, and candles bathing the room in a soft glow. It wasn't as fancy as the Death Mansion, but then again Liz supposed, not a lot of places were. Based on the look of the few other diners, she guessed it was an expensive place, and she wondered briefly where Blair got the money to "treat" them- before quickly deciding she was better off not knowing.

Footsteps, heavy and assured, a man's steps approached from somewhere behind her. She turned toward her date, reaching up to brush a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear in a way she knew was becoming, but froze with her hand hovering oddly somewhere near her cheek just as he dropped the bouquet of roses he had been cradling in the crook of his elbow.

"You," Liz spat.

"There must've been some kind of mistake!" Spirit Albarn, death scythe and Maka's father insisted, floundering. "I must have the wrong table, you're meeting someone else here, right? Sorry for barging in, I'll be going now-"

Liz held up a hand to stop his blabbering. "Blind date, 7:30 P.M, set up by a cat with a ridiculous amount of magic?"

"Y-yes," Spirit replied, momentarily shocked by her bluntness.

"Surprise." Liz crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. "You might as well sit down. Also, those flowers are going to get stepped on if you don't pick them up."

He moved to comply with her suggestions almost automatically, as if his brain had short circuited. He placed the bouquet on the table in front of him, and then thought better of it, and slid the roses across the table to her. "These are for you, I guess," he mumbled, his brow furrowed as if he hadn't quite processed what was happening.

"So gentlemanly," Liz replied dryly, but she accepted them. They were gorgeous, fresh and fragrant, and she decided that if his excuse for being late was stopping to find the perfect flowers for his mystery lady, then he could be excused. He still should've apologized, though.

She laid them across her lap, suddenly self conscious about the considerable amount of cleavage visible thanks to the low neckline of her dress. She had gotten ready with a hot date in mind, not a meeting with the highest ranking weapon in the DWMA. Tsubaki had gone shopping with her, and she'd tried on outfit after outfit until they found one that her friend deemed sufficiently sexy. The slightly scandalous red dress was offset by a pair of borrowed pearl earrings and a matching necklace, and even though she'd been reassured that she looked classy as anyone, she practically felt naked in front of Spirit.

He'd clearly noticed her attire too, because when she looked up from the flowers, she found his eyes lingering at her breasts. It took him a moment to realize that he'd been caught, but when he did, his eyes darted to the side refusing to meet her gaze, and his cheeks flushed bright red.

Liz sighed. She had a nagging feeling that this was going to be a very long night.

The waitress came over with two glasses and a bottle of sparkling water on ice after a few minutes, which she promptly poured for them. She passed them menus and chattered about specials, but neither Liz nor Spirit was listening. They were too busy 'not looking' at each other, and the waitress gave up after asking Spirit twice if he wanted to know about the wine selections. She decided to just leave the list and hightail it back to the kitchen, where Liz suspected she'd be telling everyone about the weird table she had.

A heavy silence fell over them, which after several tense seconds, Liz broke. "Blair's paying, so we might as well try to enjoy the food." She picked up her glass and took a sip of water. "And like, it's not the end of the world that we're eating dinner together."

"Yeah," Spirit agreed, lifting his head and looking at her with hooded eyes. "I can think of plenty of things worse than sharing a meal with a pretty girl."

Liz practically snorted at that, rolling her eyes. "Don't get carried away, old man. Now, let me see that wine list."

The waitress swept over, pen and paper in hand, ready to take their order. Liz let Spirit order for the both of them, though she did correct him on the pronunciation of one of the many dishes he rattled off. When he gave her a quizzical look, she just shrugged. Living with Death the Kid meant she picked up a lot of useless information… though occasionally it did serve a purpose, which in this case was embarrassing Spirit.

She brought them the wine the two of them had decided on, pouring them each a glass and leaving the bottle at Spirit's request. Once she had left, he raised his glass to Liz and flashed her an oh-so-slightly crooked grin."To unexpected dates and good meals!"

"Hear, hear," Liz replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. However, she did lift her goblet and clink with his before sipping her drink. It was good, and though Liz wasn't much for drinking anymore, it just felt right to be relaxing with good wine and a good… friend? Father-figure?

Her nose scrunched up a little at that thought, and she quickly took another sip so she wouldn't look weird or anything. She did this with just a little too much enthusiasm however, causing her to choke and erupt in a coughing fit that turned several heads in the dining hall.

"Are you okay, Liz?" Spirit asked hurriedly, reaching across the table as if to pat her on the back.

"Mhm." Liz nodded as best she could, covering her mouth with a napkin and swatting him away with her free hand. "Just peachy."

Spirit continued to look at her weirdly, even once she had settled down and they returned to quietly enjoying their wine. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was thinking, though.

"Here you go," the waitress chirped, setting a plate down in front of Spirit and another in front of Liz. "Chicken saltimbocca for you, sir, and veal marsala for your daughter. I'll be right out with your sides, but is there anything else I can get for you?" she asked.

"No miss, or well.. not from the kitchen at least, but if you're offering I could go for your num-"

Liz broke in, because clearly the womanizer she was supposedly on a date with hadn't been listening. "I'm not his daughter," she snapped at the waitress, surprising herself with her own venom, before turning to Spirit. "If this is how you act when you go out with your actual daughter, then it's really no surprise that she doesn't want to spend time with you."

Liz stormed off to the bathroom, grabbing her purse but leaving the flowers on her chair. She made sure to bump shoulders with the presumptuous woman, stalking away without looking behind her. It wasn't necessary for her to look in order to know what Spirit probably looked like, but she didn't care. Maybe it had been a rather harsh thing to say, but when she got pissed, things tended to kinda just… come out, and he deserved it too. Who flirts with another woman while on a date, even if it's a fiasco set up by a literal Cougar? Honestly, men were such pests.

She pushed open the door to the bathroom, which was thankfully unoccupied (since she hadn't even bothered knocking). She set her bag down on the sink and started digging through it for her phone, fully intending to call Tsubaki and demand a ride home. But once she found it and had it in her hand, she looked at it for a minute, and dropped it back into the depths of her purse. Instead, she touched up her mascara in the mirror, zipped her bag shut, and took a deep breath. Spirit was immature, sure, but her comment was uncalled for. He was probably rolling around on the floor out there crying for Maka, and as tempted as Liz was to just walk out the back door, her conscience (when had that started to matter?) told her that it wouldn't be the right thing to do.

So she straightened up, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and walked back out into the seating area with her head held high.

Liz hadn't been far off. Spirit had managed to remain in his seat, but he was in fact sobbing into the table cloth. It would've been funny if she didn't feel so guilty. She inhaled slowly, and sighed, before walking around to Spirit's side of the table and crouching next to him.

"It's okay, Death Scythe. There's no need to cry," she told him, using the most patient and soothing voice she could muster. It worked on Kid at least some of the time, so she figured perking up Spirit Albarn should be a piece of cake. "I didn't mean that. I know you're trying your best, and I think Maka's coming around too! In fact, just the other day, she was talking about how she's free on Tuesday after class. Maybe she's saving that time for you!"

"D-do you really think so?" he asked, lifting his head. He met her eyes, and she was surprised enough by the lovely turquoise color of them that it took her an extra couple of seconds before she noticed the absurd amount of snot dripping down his face."

Liz shut her eyes, said a quick prayer to Death for patience, and nodded. "Yes, of course. Now cheer up so we can eat, the food will get cold." Of course, she had totally lied about the Tuesday thing. Maka probably WAS free (reading alone in her room did not count as being busy in Liz's opinion) but getting her to hang out with Spirit would probably be like pulling teeth. It was more of a bandaid suggestion to get him through dinner, and then when Tuesday rolled around, it would be Maka's problem to deal with.

The waitress kept her distance as Spirit and Liz ate, not coming by to inquire about the quality of their food or even to take away their sides as they finished them. Liz knew this was rude, and definitely not how waitstaff was supposed to perform (what had Kid done to her sensibilities?) but she really didn't care.

Spirit didn't seem to either, because he just ate his meal steadily, cutting into his chicken and taking surprisingly appropriate size bites. He only paused to dab his mouth with the napkin on his lap from time to time, and during one of these such breaks, he gave her an odd look.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, cloth still in his hand. "You're staring."

"N-No," Liz replied, cursing internally as she felt her cheeks heat up. "No, you're good."

"Are you sure?" He put his napkin down on his lap, looking concerned. "You're very flushed." Before she could stop him, he leaned over the table and was pressing his hand to various parts of her face. "I don't think you have a fever, but I was never good at this sort of thing because I never had to be-"

"I'm fine, alright?" Liz snapped and caught his wrist, and he froze with the back of his hand still lingering on her cheek. Slowly, he turned his hand over to cup her face, thumb gently stroking over her cheekbone. He was halfway out of his chair, looking right into her eyes, and she wasn't pulling away. Liz knew she should but… she didn't want to. She liked the way his touch felt, his fingertips calloused and just rough enough to make her shiver. And the way he was looking at her, almost reverently made her feel light headed, a little giddy even. She saw his gaze drop down, but not as far as she would have expected, just studying her lips as he unconsciously wet his own with his tongue. It occurred to her that the death scythe wanted to kiss her, and she pulled back with such force the table shook.

"Just fine," she mumbled again, trying in vain to convince herself.

Dessert proceeded very similarly to dinner: an awkward conversation with the insufferable waitress, a stupidly long wait, and some very good food that they ate in silence. Spirit finished his before Liz did, and leaned back in his chair sipping from his mug of coffee. Liz could feel his eyes on her, but something was… different. She didn't feel like a student having dinner with her teacher anymore. No, she was a lady on a date with an attractive and desirable man who had wanted to kiss her- and damn it, she was going to get that kiss even if it killed her.

She kept her head down, picking at her tiramisu with a spoon. It was good, probably the best dessert she'd ever tasted, but that was the furthest thing from her mind now that she had a goal for the evening. It would make a good story to tell at parties, she reasoned, and Spirit Albarn wasn't exactly unattractive. In fact, he'd gotten plenty of experience over the years as a result of his looks alone (since his flirting was rather lacking), so she could definitely do a lot worse. The more she thought about it, the more impatient she got, and without warning she pushed her chair back and stood up, her purse slung over one shoulder and the bouquet cradled in the crook of her elbow.

"Everything okay, Liz?" Spirit asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," she replied dismissively, waving off his worries. "But I should be getting home. Mind walking me back to the Death Mansion?"

"Not at all." Spirit outright smirked, and waved to the waitress for the check. He put the charge on Blair's tab, flashed an ID and signed his name, and was escorting Liz toward the door with a light hand on her arm before she knew what was happening.

When they got outside, the cold air immediately blew directly into their faces. Liz shuddered, her dress completely impractical for this kind of weather. She seriously considered calling a cab and nearly caved, but that thought was thrown right out the window when the weight of Spirit's warm suit jacket fell around her shoulders.

"You should've dressed warmer," he said, though now he was the one shivering. "You really will get sick." He started off in the direction of the mansion, seemingly oblivious to how awkward Liz felt now that he'd brought up that tense moment again. She stood there, frozen from both astonishment and mortification for a few seconds, before shaking her head and scrambling to catch up with Spirit as fast as her sky-high heels would allow her.

As they walked, he pointed out little things around Death City that Liz hadn't known despite having lived there for quite a few years. As he was pointing out the clock tower with it's unreliable minute hand, Liz casually slid her fingers down the inside of his arm over his dress shirt until she could lace them with his own. He startled a bit, looked down at their joined hands, smiled, and went right back to rambling.

Liz would have found this behavior as annoying as hell at any other time, but it was actually kind of endearing. Spirit was more at ease now, and she could tell that his happy rambling was a sign he was becoming comfortable around her. Plus, it was pretty cute to see a man fifteen years older than her talk about trains and cars and clocks without another care. Considering the hell he'd been through- they'd all been through- with the Kishin Asura's revival almost two years back, it was a good change from the tired and stricken look he'd worn for months on end.

They came up the driveway of the Death Mansion and climbed the steps to the door. Liz went as if to open the door, even resting the hand not in his on the knob, before turning back to face him. She squeezed his hand, deliberately avoiding his gaze so as to not lose her nerve. Liz wanted to just pull him in close and crash her lips to his, but still she stood frozen, afraid to break the serenity that had settled around the two of them.

"Liz?" he asked, and she lifted her head. Her breath hitched in her throat, because he was looking right into her eyes as if he could see all the way down into her soul. They weren't resonating, it wasn't possible as two unrelated weapons, but Liz was sure that this was the next closest thing to it. His eyes were gentle, and he smiled gently at her, bringing his free hand up to cup her face the way he had back at the table. His touch was cold but welcomed, and she leaned into it.

"Yeah," she said, her voice coming out a little rougher than she had meant it to. But that was quickly forgotten because then they were kissing, his hands gently holding her face, and her arms thrown around his neck. He smelled good, like cologne and musk and shampoo, and the way he tangled his fingers in her hair only made her want more. It started out very chaste, just lips gently pressing against lips, but it wasn't long before he yielded and let her persistent tongue inside. Things got much more heated from there, and she tried to move closer to him. He had other ideas however, giving her a little push so he could press her slim frame into the door. Unfortunately, that hadn't turned out to be the good idea Spirit had thought it would because the door opened just as Liz's back hit it, and both she and Spirit went tumbling into the foyer.

Liz was on the ground on her back, Spirit sprawled on top of her, with her best friend (who must have jumped out of the way) laughing somewhere behind her.

"Ugh, you're heavy, get off," Liz complained, giving Spirit's shoulder a shake. He obliged, sitting up on his knees with a glint in his eyes, and had just opened his mouth to say something when a dictionary came flying across the room to smack him right in the kisser. His eyes immediately watered up, and he looked on in shock and horror as his baby girl, his pride and joy, his Maka, frowned down at him stormily.

"So, Blair wasn't kidding," Maka spat, looking disgusted. "You took my friend on a date? She's almost half your age you creep!" She stormed out the still open door, Spirit scrambling to his feet and stumbling after her yelling about how it wasn't his fault, and how Liz was more than half his age. The door slammed shut behind the two of them with a gust of wind, leaving Liz (still wrapped up on the floor in Spirit's coat) to stare up at Tsubaki.

"Blair might have let slip to Maka what was going on," the weapon said, looking rather sheepish. "I don't think your chances of a second date are very good."

"Oh yeah?" Liz asked, eyes narrowing. "Watch me."

* * *

Thank you very much for reading my silly fic! I hope you enjoyed it, even if it's a bit... unusual. I swear my Soul Eater family needs to stop enabling me, because then these sorts of things happen. Many thanks to thefishywitchy and songs-and-noms (their tumblr URLs) for looking over this oneshot and giving me feedback. I hope you all have a lovely day! You can find my personal tumblr at jameslarkin and my writing tumblr at rainshatteredsky if you'd like to drop me a line directly ^_^


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